A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.

but aren't they all random?

Wednesday, October 26, 2022

Hold the toast.

Tequila is a dude bro

shot. Popular. I mean in
every sense of "dude"
and in no sense of bro
worth considering
siblingesque.

Not! Is the best course,
but sometimes, by way
of whoa no homey expla
-nation, I'll say:

"Awe nah thanks. I hate
tequila. It's too slippery,
bodily fluidity in there -
on the palate. Poor mouth
feel. Tastes like semen."

Now, of course I mean it
in a sly reverse triple self
deprecation backfire way,
for some minds only to
spit-take on. Nothing wrong
with that, when it works

aright?

You try yours, please.
Mine's
gin,

or pinochle. Hard spirit
to beat gin. A good soft
game to knuckle up, bone
up and bear down in on,
though, pinochle! Just don't

shout

"Pinochle!"

Unless you're sure.
Are you even supposed -
damn it.

Sorry.

I meant Uno. No mas for me,

thanks.

Pinochle is hard as jaw,
h'arguably. But my nose
might grow a foot if
I told you how “good”
I am.

At it. 

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